Autobot Body Switcher
by Zexion666
Summary: After an explosion in Wheeljack's lab, everything seems to be back to normal, but why is Prowl hiding from Amy of all Autobots?
1. Chapter 1

This isn't really All That Jazz 2, but a filler until my writer's block is over. Maybe ten chapters, though I can't see this one being even THAT long

Enjoy! R&R! All That Jazz (lol)

Zex

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_**Ch.1**_

_**KA-BOOOM! Ahh, it's beautiful...**_

"Ameee!" Moonracer's long-winded call echoed around the hydroponics bay. The only response was a slight, yellow femme dashing around the corner, and nearly knocking over a large pumpkin under a hydrogen lamp. "Oh, good!" Moonracer trotted up to the panting femme. "Hey Goldbug, where's your mama?" She smiled.

The yellow femme teen slumped slightly. "She's not here. Obviously." Goldbug looked around the empty greenhouse of plants varying not only by type, but homeworld.

"Well, not so obvious to those who don't know where she is." Moonracer said uncharacteristically eloquent. "Where is she?"

Goldbug hesitated to answer. "I'm not supposed to tell." She folded her arms.

Moonracer knew how to deal with the still mentally immature Autobot. She smiled sweetly. "But I have a big job for her, and I could really use your help finding her." The mint green Autobot took the smaller femme's hands. "You can tell me, remember what you called me first off when you were little?"

Goldbug tried to hide a smile. "Moonie."

"You remembered." Moonracer hopped excitedly. "Now, just because you have to be _grown up_ doesn't mean you have to _be_ grown up." She grinned.

Goldbug sighed again. "You can't tell dad." She said, her more mature demeanor returning.

Moonracer started. "Why not?" She squinted one blue optic. "I mean, I wasn't going to, she's late for her research...thing," Moonracer flitted a hand. "Anyway, Ratchet's looking for her."

"Well," Goldbug squinted slightly, giving it some serious thought, but still under oath by her mother to not tell a single spark where the blue femme was.

"I'll give you all my Energon goodies." Moonracer offered.

Goldbug gasped. "Okay!"

Moonracer smiled. _That was easy._

Goldbug leaned in close, and gave Moonracer a little waving gesture. "Dad'll get really jealous if he finds out, so don't tell him. This one time when mom was hanging out with Bumblebee, I thought dad was gonna blow a servo because he thinks mom is happier around him, but I think he's lost his processor. Even Chromia says dad's circuitry is malfunctioning if he thinks Bumblebee would ever-"

"Goldbug," Moonracer interrupted. "You're rambling again. Where's Amy?" She asked again.

"Ohh!" Goldbug chuckled slightly. "Sorry, she went to see Wheeljack."

"That's it?" Moonracer felt a slight pang of disappointment. "That's the big secret you were keeping?"

Goldbug nodded, innocently.

The ground shook in unison with an explosion somewhere off.

Moonracer rolled her optics, and ran off.

Goldbug sighed, and skipped naively down the aisles back toward a group of honeydews the size of copy machines.

Wheeljack's lab was full to the brim with thick, black, even oily, smoke. Prowl's vents choked on the vaporous substance as he entered the blindingly dense cloud.

"Wheeljack!" Prowl called out. "What in Primus exploded this time?"

Laughter bubbled up from the room.

"Wheeljack!" Prowl exclaimed.

A form wobbled toward Prowl, laughing, and leaned against his front.

"Holy crap, did you see that?" A female voice laughed. "That was awesome! Wheeljack, dude, that was amazing!"

Prowl sighed. "Blazer." He shook his head slightly. "Why am I not surprised you're here?"

Exhaust vents purred, and the smoke cleared in a matter of nanoclicks.

A blue femme standing as high as Prowl's chin was looking off to the right where a black blob started to move, and cough. "Call me Amy, okay?" she coughed

"Are either of you injured?" Prowl asked.

"Hey Wheeljack!" Amy trotted over to the blackened Autobot scientist, laughing.

Wheeljack stood up, shook his head a couple times, black dust flying off his hull plating then looked at the machine.

"Well, I was expecting at least slight electrocution." Wheeljack walked over to a burnt-out plate, and peeled it off. "But it works!" He cheered, waving the plate around triumphantly

"Like it was supposed to do that?" Amy gawked.

"Am I being ignored?" Prowl asked, frowning.

Amy turned. "No, Prowl, hi." She walked over, and patted his shoulder. "You doin' okay? How's Bluestreak?"

Prowl nodded. "Today he won't stop talking about sandworms."

"Really? That's awesome." Amy giggled, folding her arms over her middle.

"You certainly are jubilant." Prowl noted with some relief.

Amy nodded. "Why shouldn't I be?" Her smile faded slightly.

Prowl sighed. She certainly was suited for Jazz

Amy sighed. "Jazz works a lot, and I understand. The kids go to school, and it's not easy being an Autobot, so I'm here being amused by Wheeljack repeatedly blowing himself up."

"I heard that!" Wheeljack looked over from his workstation.

Amy looked at the Autobot, her face quirking in a way that could almost be raising an eyebrow.

Prowl nodded once. "Be that as it may, Blazer-"

"Amy." She interrupted. "Please, call me Amy." The blue femme put her hands together in a pleading gesture, and pouted slightly.

"Don't you have better, more educational things to do?" Prowl asked suggestively.

Amy scratched her head. "Can't think of anything." She lied.

Prowl folded his arms. "Then perhaps I'm wrong to assume you have arranged with Ratchet to dissect a Petro-Rabbit."

Amy muttered something inaudible, but obviously disgusted.

Prowl sighed. The once human Amy Miller certainly was trouble for the Autobots, but at the same time a heavenly burden. He smiled slightly.

"Hel-looh?" Amy waved a hand in front of Prowl's face. "Earth to Prowl, come in Prowl. All frequencies clear. Stop staring at me, it's creepy!" She clapped her hands in his face.

Prowl started. "I must insist you speak with Ratchet before week's end." He turned to leave.

"No, wait! Don't leave! I just fixed it, I know it'll work now!" Wheeljack beamed, holding up a green cube-like thing.

"Aww, and here I thought you were making a great big smoke machine." Amy pretended to pout.

Wheeljack's excitement didn't falter. "No, the city already has one. It creates a smoke wall through every crevice of the city, and when the shield is up it becomes a big black festering, dome death trap!" He gestured wildly.

Amy was stricken speechless for a moment. "And that would used for...what?" She squinted slightly.

"I dunno," Wheeljack shrugged. "But it looks cool from space." He chuckled.

Prowl sighed, and scratched his forehead above his left eye.

"huh." Amy nodded slightly. "Like black fog."

"Yeah!" Wheeljack said, standing next to his machine. "Except it suffocates your vents, and results in complete function overload!" He exclaimed excitedly.

Amy frowned slightly. "Well that's not very useful at all."

Wheeljack looked at Amy, glaring slightly.

"Right this second. If we were invaded by...little tiny robots," Amy scoffed. "Pish, they'd be dead in, like, nanoclicks, or some smaller increment of time that I have no idea exists."

Wheeljack nodded. "Yeah, it'd be awesome." He looked back at his latest invention.

Prowl leaned over, and said the only thing he could to Amy's remark. "The likelihood of such an event is improbable."

"I know, Prowl." Amy whispered.

The scientist Autobot installed the device, and rubbed his palms together. If not for the plate replacing his mouth, he would have had the most devious little grin on his face. "One for the credits, two for the show, three to get fragged, and four to-..." Wheeljack paused. "Hey guys, could you pull those two red levers when I say so?" He asked, hopeful.

"Okie dokie, smokie!" Amy hopped off the stool, and trotted over to the machine. "Ready when you are!" She saluted.

"If I get my head blown off, my spark will haunt you, Wheeljack." Prowl frowned.

"GO!" Wheeljack pressed a little red button.

Amy and Prowl threw the switches.

The machine crackled, and popped, and seethed blue electricity. It whirred, and groaned, and a small "uh oh." Was heard, all in a matter of nanoclicks.

In real-time the three Autobots were floored before they could see what exactly was happening.

The explosion rocked the entire city, and startled even those accustomed to Wheeljack's experiments, and loud inventing.

Jazz paused writing his report, and looked up at the picture shaking on the wall. He narrowed his optics slightly at the holograph of his family. The frame rattled, and fell, shattering the surface projecting the hologram.

"Frag!" Bluestreak jumped up, and looked at Jazz,

"What happened?" Jazz turned, and looked at the grey mech, eyes still narrowed slightly.

"The console just died." Bluestreak said exasperatedly, slamming his fists on the metal surface.

Jazz groaned. "Wheeljack." He growled, and ran out of the room.

Bluestreak stood in the security office, at a loss.

Jazz transformed, and drove in alt mode toward Wheeljack's lab on the opposite end of town. The shaking subsided, and the lieutenant picked up speed.

Again, the room was filled with smoke, but no laughter. Wheeljack was in stasis on the ground, face down, and blackened as usual.

Prowl's systems slowly re-activated, starting with his optics sensors. His internal diagnostics ran scans, and he was pretty much okay. "Ow." He sat up, extending his legs out, and leaning back on his hands. He leaned on his left hand, and used his right to hold a blackened spot on his torso.

Amy grumbled, and turned over. She sat up quickly, and shook her head. "Are you damaged?" she asked the policeman, her optic casing squinted shut from the throbbing pain in her entire body.

"No." Prowl shook his head blearily. "M'okay." He looked around. "Where's Wheeljack?" His eyes focused on a black-ish blob facedown on the floor, and shook his head. "I wonder what it's supposed to do, besides explode."

"I would not ask such things." Amy held a hand to her face. She rubbed her optics slightly then paused, looking slightly disturbed. She raised her other hand to her face, and felt the planes with confusion. "This is not right."

Prowl groaned. "You're telling me. I feel a thousand pounds heavier." He fell back on the ground with a thud.

Amy stood as the exhaust fans turned on, and ran toward a window facing a darkened room adjacent to the lab. It was dusty, and unused; Wheeljack's would-be office. A place most Autobots wished he would use, but knew they would miss the explosions too much, and never said a word about it; Optimus himself included. Amy wiped away a spot, and peered at the reflection. She blinked her optic casings, and narrowed her eyes at the glass pane.

The face staring back at her was not one she expected, but was that of Jazz's beloved sparkmate. She turned slowly, and looked at the familiar black and white form lying on the ground.

The white head, the red crest, black arms, it was all Prowl, except he was not there at all. Amy looked back at the window.

"I am not accustomed to dreaming while in stasis." Amy muttered.

Prowl turned his head. "Whadja say?" He stared at the blue form by the window. Had the blast effected his optic sensors? He sat up, stared some more then hit his head with one hand.

"That won't help." Amy said, waving one hand slowly at the window then abruptly grabbing a toolbox propped against the wall.

"That's not me." Prowl shook his head slowly. "Is it?"

Amy turned. "It is you, but somehow..." she turned back to the window. "Me."

"Wheeljack!" Jazz ran in, and saw Prowl sitting on the floor. "Prowl, man, you okay?" He walked up, and patted his fellow security bot's back.

Prowl looked up, his optics wide. "I'm not Prowl." He said with same voice as Prowl, the same face as Prowl, but not an expression Prowl would usually make.

Jazz started. Was Prowl malfunctioning? "A'ight, not-Prowl, if you ain't, who is?" He asked smugly. There was no other Prowl in the room, so what could he say?

Not what Jazz expected, that's for sure.

Prowl leaned back on one hand, and crossed his feet. He pointed one hand at the blue femme by the window. "He is." He muttered. "Er, I guess she is."

Amy turned, and glowered at Prowl.

Prowl lowered his hand, and sidled behind Jazz's leg.

Jazz had to stop and think for a moment. Prowl wasn't Prowl? Amy is Prowl? What the slag happened here? He looked down at his security partner hiding behind his leg, peeking out at the grumpy blue femme staring into the window, muttering.

"Amy?" Jazz asked the blue femme tentatively.

Amy turned silently, and would have glared a hole through Jazz's head.

Prowl tugged on Jazz's leg. "I'm down here, sweetie." He whimpered, pouting slightly.

Jazz felt a discomforting tingle run up his leg, and into his back. He looked down at the security bot sitting on the floor, holding his leg with one hand, leaning his head on his calf.

"Say dat again?" Jazz looked at Prowl like the bot had just sprung an oil leak.

Prowl gave a martyred sigh, folded his arms, and pouted angrily. "You're lucky I love you, or I'd shoot you in the head."

"Dis Ain't happenin'." Jazz started.

Amy turned, and leaned her back against the window. "I fear it is, Lieutenant Jazz." She folded her arms, and looked down at the floor. "I'm not sure what Wheeljack's machine was for, but it seems to have, for the moment, switched mine and Amy's core consciousness." She said.

"What about Jack?" Jazz's voice exclaimed.

"We'll have to see about that when he re-activates." Amy turned, and leveled her gaze with the lieutenant. "Until then, we need a medical team in here to tend to him; I have to say I do not want to be the one to tell Ratchet what Wheeljack has done to your sparkmate."

_**Coming Soon**_

_**CH.2**_

_**Where Jazz is concerned**_


	2. Chapter 2

I notice my chapters are considerably shorter than All That Jazz. Is the story still good? O-o honestly people, is anyone reading this?

I like writing it and all, but if noone is going to other reviewing because they think i'm such a good author i don't need it, I'm going to stop writing.

forever!

O-O...

...

...

. I'll never stop, but please review even if it's in spanish or chinese, or whatever the hell language you speak, please tell me what you think!

-x-x-xx-x-x-xx-

_**Ch.1**_

_**KA-BOOOM! Ahh, it's beautiful...**_

"Ameee!" Moonracer's long-winded call echoed around the hydroponics bay. The only response was a slight, yellow femme dashing around the corner, and nearly knocking over a large pumpkin under a hydrogen lamp. "Oh, good!" Moonracer trotted up to the panting femme. "Hey Goldbug, where's your mama?" She smiled.

The yellow femme teen slumped slightly. "She's not here. Obviously." Goldbug looked around the empty greenhouse of plants varying not only by type, but homeworld.

"Well, not so obvious to those who don't know where she is." Moonracer said uncharacteristically eloquent. "Where is she?"

Goldbug hesitated to answer. "I'm not supposed to tell." She folded her arms.

Moonracer knew how to deal with the still mentally immature Autobot. She smiled sweetly. "But I have a big job for her, and I could really use your help finding her." The mint green Autobot took the smaller femme's hands. "You can tell me, remember what you called me first off when you were little?"

Goldbug tried to hide a smile. "Moonie."

"You remembered." Moonracer hopped excitedly. "Now, just because you have to be _grown up_ doesn't mean you have to _be_ grown up." She grinned.

Goldbug sighed again. "You can't tell dad." She said, her more mature demeanor returning.

Moonracer started. "Why not?" She squinted one blue optic. "I mean, I wasn't going to, she's late for her research...thing," Moonracer flitted a hand. "Anyway, Ratchet's looking for her."

"Well," Goldbug squinted slightly, giving it some serious thought, but still under oath by her mother to not tell a single spark where the blue femme was.

"I'll give you all my Energon goodies." Moonracer offered.

Goldbug gasped. "Okay!"

Moonracer smiled. _That was easy._

Goldbug leaned in close, and gave Moonracer a little waving gesture. "Dad'll get really jealous if he finds out, so don't tell him. This one time when mom was hanging out with Bumblebee, I thought dad was gonna blow a servo because he thinks mom is happier around him, but I think he's lost his processor. Even Chromia says dad's circuitry is malfunctioning if he thinks Bumblebee would ever-"

"Goldbug," Moonracer interrupted. "You're rambling again. Where's Amy?" She asked again.

"Ohh!" Goldbug chuckled slightly. "Sorry, she went to see Wheeljack."

"That's it?" Moonracer felt a slight pang of disappointment. "That's the big secret you were keeping?"

Goldbug nodded, innocently.

The ground shook in unison with an explosion somewhere off.

Moonracer rolled her optics, and ran off.

Goldbug sighed, and skipped naively down the aisles back toward a group of honeydews the size of copy machines.

Wheeljack's lab was full to the brim with thick, black, even oily, smoke. Prowl's vents choked on the vaporous substance as he entered the blindingly dense cloud.

"Wheeljack!" Prowl called out. "What in Primus exploded this time?"

Laughter bubbled up from the room.

"Wheeljack!" Prowl exclaimed.

A form wobbled toward Prowl, laughing, and leaned against his front.

"Holy crap, did you see that?" A female voice laughed. "That was awesome! Wheeljack, dude, that was amazing!"

Prowl sighed. "Blazer." He shook his head slightly. "Why am I not surprised you're here?"

Exhaust vents purred, and the smoke cleared in a matter of nanoclicks.

A blue femme standing as high as Prowl's chin was looking off to the right where a black blob started to move, and cough. "Call me Amy, okay?" she coughed

"Are either of you injured?" Prowl asked.

"Hey Wheeljack!" Amy trotted over to the blackened Autobot scientist, laughing.

Wheeljack stood up, shook his head a couple times, black dust flying off his hull plating then looked at the machine.

"Well, I was expecting at least slight electrocution." Wheeljack walked over to a burnt-out plate, and peeled it off. "But it works!" He cheered, waving the plate around triumphantly

"Like it was supposed to do that?" Amy gawked.

"Am I being ignored?" Prowl asked, frowning.

Amy turned. "No, Prowl, hi." She walked over, and patted his shoulder. "You doin' okay? How's Bluestreak?"

Prowl nodded. "Today he won't stop talking about sandworms."

"Really? That's awesome." Amy giggled, folding her arms over her middle.

"You certainly are jubilant." Prowl noted with some relief.

Amy nodded. "Why shouldn't I be?" Her smile faded slightly.

Prowl sighed. She certainly was suited for Jazz

Amy sighed. "Jazz works a lot, and I understand. The kids go to school, and it's not easy being an Autobot, so I'm here being amused by Wheeljack repeatedly blowing himself up."

"I heard that!" Wheeljack looked over from his workstation.

Amy looked at the Autobot, her face quirking in a way that could almost be raising an eyebrow.

Prowl nodded once. "Be that as it may, Blazer-"

"Amy." She interrupted. "Please, call me Amy." The blue femme put her hands together in a pleading gesture, and pouted slightly.

"Don't you have better, more educational things to do?" Prowl asked suggestively.

Amy scratched her head. "Can't think of anything." She lied.

Prowl folded his arms. "Then perhaps I'm wrong to assume you have arranged with Ratchet to dissect a Petro-Rabbit."

Amy muttered something inaudible, but obviously disgusted.

Prowl sighed. The once human Amy Miller certainly was trouble for the Autobots, but at the same time a heavenly burden. He smiled slightly.

"Hel-looh?" Amy waved a hand in front of Prowl's face. "Earth to Prowl, come in Prowl. All frequencies clear. Stop staring at me, it's creepy!" She clapped her hands in his face.

Prowl started. "I must insist you speak with Ratchet before week's end." He turned to leave.

"No, wait! Don't leave! I just fixed it, I know it'll work now!" Wheeljack beamed, holding up a green cube-like thing.

"Aww, and here I thought you were making a great big smoke machine." Amy pretended to pout.

Wheeljack's excitement didn't falter. "No, the city already has one. It creates a smoke wall through every crevice of the city, and when the shield is up it becomes a big black festering, dome death trap!" He gestured wildly.

Amy was stricken speechless for a moment. "And that would used for...what?" She squinted slightly.

"I dunno," Wheeljack shrugged. "But it looks cool from space." He chuckled.

Prowl sighed, and scratched his forehead above his left eye.

"huh." Amy nodded slightly. "Like black fog."

"Yeah!" Wheeljack said, standing next to his machine. "Except it suffocates your vents, and results in complete function overload!" He exclaimed excitedly.

Amy frowned slightly. "Well that's not very useful at all."

Wheeljack looked at Amy, glaring slightly.

"Right this second. If we were invaded by...little tiny robots," Amy scoffed. "Pish, they'd be dead in, like, nanoclicks, or some smaller increment of time that I have no idea exists."

Wheeljack nodded. "Yeah, it'd be awesome." He looked back at his latest invention.

Prowl leaned over, and said the only thing he could to Amy's remark. "The likelihood of such an event is improbable."

"I know, Prowl." Amy whispered.

The scientist Autobot installed the device, and rubbed his palms together. If not for the plate replacing his mouth, he would have had the most devious little grin on his face. "One for the credits, two for the show, three to get fragged, and four to-..." Wheeljack paused. "Hey guys, could you pull those two red levers when I say so?" He asked, hopeful.

"Okie dokie, smokie!" Amy hopped off the stool, and trotted over to the machine. "Ready when you are!" She saluted.

"If I get my head blown off, my spark will haunt you, Wheeljack." Prowl frowned.

"GO!" Wheeljack pressed a little red button.

Amy and Prowl threw the switches.

The machine crackled, and popped, and seethed blue electricity. It whirred, and groaned, and a small "uh oh." Was heard, all in a matter of nanoclicks.

In real-time the three Autobots were floored before they could see what exactly was happening.

The explosion rocked the entire city, and startled even those accustomed to Wheeljack's experiments, and loud inventing.

Jazz paused writing his report, and looked up at the picture shaking on the wall. He narrowed his optics slightly at the holograph of his family. The frame rattled, and fell, shattering the surface projecting the hologram.

"Frag!" Bluestreak jumped up, and looked at Jazz,

"What happened?" Jazz turned, and looked at the grey mech, eyes still narrowed slightly.

"The console just died." Bluestreak said exasperatedly, slamming his fists on the metal surface.

Jazz groaned. "Wheeljack." He growled, and ran out of the room.

Bluestreak stood in the security office, at a loss.

Jazz transformed, and drove in alt mode toward Wheeljack's lab on the opposite end of town. The shaking subsided, and the lieutenant picked up speed.

Again, the room was filled with smoke, but no laughter. Wheeljack was in stasis on the ground, face down, and blackened as usual.

Prowl's systems slowly re-activated, starting with his optics sensors. His internal diagnostics ran scans, and he was pretty much okay. "Ow." He sat up, extending his legs out, and leaning back on his hands. He leaned on his left hand, and used his right to hold a blackened spot on his torso.

Amy grumbled, and turned over. She sat up quickly, and shook her head. "Are you damaged?" she asked the policeman, her optic casing squinted shut from the throbbing pain in her entire body.

"No." Prowl shook his head blearily. "M'okay." He looked around. "Where's Wheeljack?" His eyes focused on a black-ish blob facedown on the floor, and shook his head. "I wonder what it's supposed to do, besides explode."

"I would not ask such things." Amy held a hand to her face. She rubbed her optics slightly then paused, looking slightly disturbed. She raised her other hand to her face, and felt the planes with confusion. "This is not right."

Prowl groaned. "You're telling me. I feel a thousand pounds heavier." He fell back on the ground with a thud.

Amy stood as the exhaust fans turned on, and ran toward a window facing a darkened room adjacent to the lab. It was dusty, and unused; Wheeljack's would-be office. A place most Autobots wished he would use, but knew they would miss the explosions too much, and never said a word about it; Optimus himself included. Amy wiped away a spot, and peered at the reflection. She blinked her optic casings, and narrowed her eyes at the glass pane.

The face staring back at her was not one she expected, but was that of Jazz's beloved sparkmate. She turned slowly, and looked at the familiar black and white form lying on the ground.

The white head, the red crest, black arms, it was all Prowl, except he was not there at all. Amy looked back at the window.

"I am not accustomed to dreaming while in stasis." Amy muttered.

Prowl turned his head. "Whadja say?" He stared at the blue form by the window. Had the blast effected his optic sensors? He sat up, stared some more then hit his head with one hand.

"That won't help." Amy said, waving one hand slowly at the window then abruptly grabbing a toolbox propped against the wall.

"That's not me." Prowl shook his head slowly. "Is it?"

Amy turned. "It is you, but somehow..." she turned back to the window. "Me."

"Wheeljack!" Jazz ran in, and saw Prowl sitting on the floor. "Prowl, man, you okay?" He walked up, and patted his fellow security bot's back.

Prowl looked up, his optics wide. "I'm not Prowl." He said with same voice as Prowl, the same face as Prowl, but not an expression Prowl would usually make.

Jazz started. Was Prowl malfunctioning? "A'ight, not-Prowl, if you ain't, who is?" He asked smugly. There was no other Prowl in the room, so what could he say?

Not what Jazz expected, that's for sure.

Prowl leaned back on one hand, and crossed his feet. He pointed one hand at the blue femme by the window. "He is." He muttered. "Er, I guess she is."

Amy turned, and glowered at Prowl.

Prowl lowered his hand, and sidled behind Jazz's leg.

Jazz had to stop and think for a moment. Prowl wasn't Prowl? Amy is Prowl? What the slag happened here? He looked down at his security partner hiding behind his leg, peeking out at the grumpy blue femme staring into the window, muttering.

"Amy?" Jazz asked the blue femme tentatively.

Amy turned silently, and would have glared a hole through Jazz's head.

Prowl tugged on Jazz's leg. "I'm down here, sweetie." He whimpered, pouting slightly.

Jazz felt a discomforting tingle run up his leg, and into his back. He looked down at the security bot sitting on the floor, holding his leg with one hand, leaning his head on his calf.

"Say dat again?" Jazz looked at Prowl like the bot had just sprung an oil leak.

Prowl gave a martyred sigh, folded his arms, and pouted angrily. "You're lucky I love you, or I'd shoot you in the head."

"Dis Ain't happenin'." Jazz started.

Amy turned, and leaned her back against the window. "I fear it is, Lieutenant Jazz." She folded her arms, and looked down at the floor. "I'm not sure what Wheeljack's machine was for, but it seems to have, for the moment, switched mine and Amy's core consciousness." She said.

"What about Jack?" Jazz's voice exclaimed.

"We'll have to see about that when he re-activates." Amy turned, and leveled her gaze with the lieutenant. "Until then, we need a medical team in here to tend to him; I have to say I do not want to be the one to tell Ratchet what Wheeljack has done to your sparkmate."

_**CH.2**_

_**Where Jazz is concerned**_

Ratchet was less than surprised to see Wheeljack in stasis lock from yet another one of his experiments gone awry. He shook his head slightly, and rubbed the back of his neck as Firestar pushed Wheeljack out on a hover-gurney. The C.M.O. turned his attention to Prowl, Amy, and Jazz, talking in hushed vocal tones near an office surrounded by dark, probably sound-proof, glass.

"Omigod, he's looking." Prowl gasped, and whipped his head to look at Amy. "What do we do?" His blue optics grew light, and watery with coolant.

"s'aight girl, don' you lose yo' processor now." Jazz patted Prowl's shoulder.

Prowl nodded, trying not to sob.

Amy watched Prowl, her logic failing her. Was it this body that interfered with her ability to reason out any situation? She looked at Prowl, or rather, Prowl looked at his body then looked back at Ratchet.

"Jazz," Prowl rubbed desperately at his blue optics. "What-" He hiccupped. "What do I tell the children?" His voice squeaked.

Amy looked at Prowl, an inevitable thought dawning on her. She lowered her green optics to the ground then looked back at the pair. "Nothing." She said finally.

Prowl and Jazz turned startled optics to the security mech in the blue femme's body.

"What?" Prowl asked, almost speechless.

"Say again, Prowl." Jazz narrowed his optics at the blue femme.

Amy sighed. "We don't tell your children _or_ Ratchet anything." She said, folding her arms. "If Wheeljack's machine can malfunction to this extreme, there has to be a way to make it malfunction in a way to undo its current effect."

Prowl looked at Jazz then at Amy. "But," He tried his damnedest not to start crying. "How long until _that_ happens? I mean," He covered his optics with the heels of his hands, and tried to think of all the reasons the situation was _not_ hopeless. "Wheeljack tweaks one machine at least a hundred times a day, and then some." He let his hands fall from his blue optics, and stared at Amy incredulously. "I have things to do during the day. I take Bebop to daycare, go to work, pick Bebop up from daycare. Tomorrow I have a lunch date with Sarah and Annabelle, and I can't go like _this_!" He shrieked.

"Go where, Prowl?" Ratchet asked, standing right behind the white mech.

Prowl gasped, his optics going wide. _Uh oh..._ His head turned, and he looked at Ratchet over his right shoulder. _How much did he hear?_ Prowl looked at Jazz. _His reaction can't be all _that_ bad, can it?_ He wondered internally.

"Ah-hey docbot, wus crackin'?" Jazz asked, forcing a smile. " 'Jack gonna make it?" He asked nervously.

Ratchet squinted one optic, glancing between the three Autobots. "Yes, he is." His gaze fell to the floor momentarily then he looked back up. "While I have you three here, I need to assess Goldbug's recent tardiness to my class."

Prowl gasped. "She what?" He squeaked.

Ratchet shifted optics only to the security mech. "It was you, Prowl, who informed _me_ yesterday morning."

Prowl opened his mouth to protest, but Amy pre-empted another out of character response from himself.

"How late was she?" Amy asked flatly.

Prowl started, and looked at Amy.

Amy raised a meaningful gaze to Prowl, sending a strict text message to his comm. system. "I'll have a talk with her." She said to the medic.

Prowl jumped slightly, and looked at his arm. A small screen appeared with words in Cybertronian on it. He examined it a moment then slowly understood the symbols he had only begun to learn alongside Bebop from Bumblebee's linguistics lessons.

_**Be very careful.**_

Prowl shifted his optics to Amy's face.

"Alright," Ratchet sighed. "Primus knows I have certain expectations for my students, no matter how few of them there are."

Prowl smiled. "I hear Sideswipe and Sunstreaker are in her class along with a few others who arrived a week ago, am I right?" he turned to Ratchet, and clasped his hands, beaming. "I'm so happy your class is filling up. I got so worried there for a while when it was just the three of them, but now it seems you're doing just fine." He giggled.

Ratchet and Jazz stared at Prowl, one startled, the other incredulous.

"Er," Prowl took a step away form the pair staring at him. "I mean..." His gaze shifted to an angry Amy then back to the medic. "Idon'tfeelgood,gottago,bye!" He ran from the room promptly. _Oh crap, oh crap! I'm not being careful!_ He thought, only stopping once out of the underground laboratory, and back on street level near the security office. "This is bad." He murmured. _How am I supposed to act like Prowl? That guy is a prick._ He pouted, and looked at his hands.

"Prowl?" A voice next to the mech startled him, and he turned his head slowly to the right.

Bumblebee started. "Can I get past you?"

Prowl panicked. "Why?" He stepped back instinctively, and cursed. No use asking why if you're just gonna move aside.

Bumblebee gave a little shrug. "I came to find Amy. We were supposed to meet in the mess hall, and she didn't show."

"Oh nooo!" Prowl shrieked, hitting his head against one hand. "I totally forgot," He gasped, and took Bumblebee's hands. "I didn't blow you off, I swear, but I'm going through some crap right now, and I promise I'll meet you tomorrow."

To hear that string of words come out of Prowl's mouth, in Prowl's deep voice, was more than a little strange, but it wasn't just what he was saying, but how he was saying it.

Bumblebee tilted his head, and squinted one optic skeptically. "Did we...have a meeting scheduled?" He asked slowly, pulling his hands away from Prowl.

Prowl wanted to answer, but knew he would just get himself in trouble. The security bot had a certain reputation, and the femme currently occupying his body wanted to keep his reputation in check, but so far she was just fragging it up.

"Um," Prowl curled one hand against his mouth. "Maybe I mistook you for someone else." He said, shifting his gaze away. It took him a moment to remember, despite technically being a "he", he was a "she", but did not look like it, and the "he" occupying her body was the one everyone saw when they looked at "she as "he" was now.

_That's too confusing_. Prowl thought.

"Maybe you're looking for Goldbug?" Bumblebee offered, thoroughly confused.

Prowl nodded. "Yes" He said, uncertainty all over his faceplate. "I'll go find her then." He said.

Concerned as he was about Prowl's sudden change in demeanor, Bumblebee was more concerned with finding Amy, and finding out why she had not met him in the mess hall at the agreed time. He walked past Prowl, and into the corridor leading to Wheeljack's lab located a few meters underground. He had been a few microns late to their meeting, but it worried him when Amy didn't show up at all.

The doors to the lab opened as he approached, and three bots walked out; Ratchet followed by Jazz and Amy arguing about something he couldn't hear.

"Amy!" Bumblebee nearly gasped. The blue femme was slightly blackened, and looked very unhappy with lieutenant Jazz.

Amy glanced at Bumblebee, but it was no sudden concern of hers why the espionage bot was paying a visit to Wheeljack's lab. Completely oblivious to the fact that the yellow mech was calling her-or rather _his_-name, Amy turned back to Jazz. "I can not sufficiently perform my duties as previously discussed. I am not programmed to work with fledglings."

"You th' one dat wants to keep all dis a secret." Jazz said, waving a hand dismissively as they walked.

"You do not honestly expect me to babysit!" Amy snapped.

Bumblebee stopped next to Amy, and started to say something, but the blue femme passed right by. "Amy!" he called, exasperatedly.

Jazz grabbed Amy's arm, and turned her around. "He's talkin' to you, _girl_." He said smugly then walked away.

Amy glanced at the lieutenant. She was not going to stand by, and make idle conversation with Bumblebee when there were more pressing matters to attend to; like returning his consciousness to his own body.

Bumblebee glowered. The femme was ignoring him for some reason; not hearing a word he said, and he was starting to think it was good she missed their mess hall meeting. "Nevermind, I can see you have more pressing matters to attend to." He grumbled, and walked back toward street level.

"Hmm?" Amy looked up at Bumblebee passed. "Pardon me, Bumblebee, were you speaking to me?" she called, oblivious.

Bumblebee didn't dignify her with a response, and emerged outside once again, and saw Prowl talking to Jazz. Prowl still looked distressed, and confused, and Jazz was doing his best to calm the mech down. Both Prowl _and_ Amy were acting strangely; you could almost say their personalities had switched entirely, almost like they had turned into each other. The yellow mech shook his head; glitches happened all the time. There was no need for outrageous theories.

"Jus' take it easy, girl." Jazz murmured, holding Prowl's shoulders.

"I can't stay calm! I have errands I run every day, and I work the soda counter at the antique store, and if I'm not there then I'm gonna get fired, and if I have no job, I'll be completely useless, and I can't just sit idly by and _pretend_ to be a security officer. Bebop needs attention, y'know, and he'll notice if I'm not there, or if I'm different-" Prowl rambled in a panic.

Jazz shook the taller mech once. "Hey!" He exclaimed. "Stop worryin' so much," He grabbed the back of Prowl's neck and pulled his head down to speak to him in a hushed tone. "Bebop ain't gonna notice." He tried to reassure the freaking femme-mech.

Prowl stared at Jazz like a cow stares at an oncoming train, and murmured in a voice deathly serious. "He'll notice, Jazz. He's a kid, he knows his mommy and daddy. He'll notice."

Jazz smirked. "So don't that mean he'll know you when he sees ya?" The white mech suggested knowingly.

Prowl opened his mouth to say something, but decided against it, and nodded instead.

Jazz released the mech. "A'ight, so no problem?" He smiled.

Prowl nodded, frowning slightly. "Yeah...not a problem."

The botanical garden, the largest, and most colorful flower garden the femme-gone-mech had ever seen to this day was still her son's favorite place to sit.

The son in question, Bebop by name, sat talking to a yellow flower that upon closer inspection had a bumblebee sitting on it stalk-still.

"-and I gots a booboo." The small pretender boy sighed dejectedly.

The flower, a daffodil, bobbed as if nodding.

Prowl looked at himself in the side mirror of the police cruiser, and frowned. Human synthoid and all, he was still a mech...for now. He took a deep breath, and calmly told himself to stay cool, and not get too agitated, or the little boy might get agitated too, and cause a ruckus. Prowl gasped at himself. What was he saying? He sounded like...like...like Prowl.

He approached the boy wearing a leather jacket and pants, his hair striped black and white. Prowl made a mental note to speak to the police mech later about his unusual fashion sense.

Bebop looked up. "Are you playing policeman?" He asked, squinting slightly against the sun.

Prowl considered his answer carefully. "Er...yeah, I'm playing policeman."

"Oh," Bebop looked back at the daffodil, slouching slightly. "That's my mommy, but she doesn't always play policeman."

Prowl looked around for another being, but saw none.

"Nah, mommy is as cool as dad-dee." Bebop smiled. "She plays checkies wit me."

Prowl crouched down. "Bebop," he started, a bit worried. "Who are you talking to?"

Bebop looked at Prowl then at the flower. "He went into the frower because he shy." The small pretender said sheepishly.

"Ohh." Prowl leaned over, and peered into the yellow flower cup.

A bumblebee squirmed inside.

Prowl sat back, staring at Bebop worriedly.

"He's a bee, but not like Bubbobee." Bebop shook his head.

"Ah." Prowl sat down, and folded his legs. "I see, so this bee, does he have a name?"

Bebop nodded. "His name is Whisper."

"Whisper?" Prowl asked. "Any reason why?"

Bebop dug in the dirt with a stick. "His boice is rally small, so is like a whisper." He said distracted by the dirt.

"Ohh." Prowl nodded.

The daffodil wiggled.

"Do you like bees?" Bebop asked.

Prowl shrugged. "I dunno, I never met one."

Two tiny black hands pushed down the inner bell of the daffodil, and two prominent blue eyes peered over the yellow blossom at Prowl. It blinked a couple of times then stood up a little more.

"I think he likes you." Bebop giggled.

Prowl smiled. "Really? Well that's two Bumblebees who like me." He winked at the tiny mech in the flower.

The little mech stood up at it's full high of just barely an inch, and smiled.

Prowl nodded. "Hi. I'm Amy."

The little bee ducked back down bashfully.

"He says it's nice to meet my mommy." Bebop stood up.

The bee mech flew up to Bebop quick as a flash, and perched on his nose in bee form. Bebop didn't seem to notice, or didn't mind, and took Prowl's hand. "How come you're playing policeman?" He asked.

Prowl sighed dejectedly. "I'm not sure, but I don't want to."

Bebop leaned over, looked up at Prowl's face, and tugging on his arm. "Are you gonna play mommy again soon?"

"Soon, baby," Prowl sighed. "Soon." He frowned slightly, not sure when "soon" would be.

On their way out, Prowl paused. Bebop stopped two, and stared up at the mech. Prowl could see it out of the corner of his left optic, the thing he had been avoiding like a rat avoids poison.

Meister's gravestone.

The black femme's actual body had been smelted down, as was Cybertronian tradition, but Amy had insisted on a gravestone somewhere in the flower garden to honor her memory, but mostly so she could see it to remind her of the sacrifice the child made for her.

"Mommy?" Bebop tugged Prowl's hand. "Can we go see Meister? I wanner to meet my new fwend."

Prowl nodded wordlessly lest he start to sob. He turned slowly, and followed Bebop as the spark-ling skipped along a gravel path toward the gravestone. The black and white mech took a slower pace, like walking to the principal's office knowing you're going to get detention anyway, so why not take as long as you can?

The stone was grey marble with Romanic letter etched into it

**This marker is erected to honor the memory**

**Of Meister, one too young to leave us.**

**Her sacrifice will be honored by all**

**In the name of Primus, and Cybertron **

**She will be sorely missed.**

**May 28, 2008-June 19, 2008**

Bebop sat in front of the marker. "-He's like Bubbobee, but smawer, and is welly good at hide an' peek." He explained giddily. "Daddy toll me not to hear what the Autobots say about you, and you're not a spider."

"Bebop." Prowl reached down, and grasped the fledgling's shoulder. "Let's go now, okay? It makes mommy really really sad to stand here."

Bebop nodded. "Okay." He stood up, kissed the stone then took Prowl's hand as they walked away.


End file.
